Page 182

Zander

Ileap out of the way, but not fast enough.

The grif’s tail catches my shoulder, sending my sword flying one way and my body another. I crash into the ground, the impact like colliding with a stone wall. I struggle to regain my focus.

“Zander!” Abarrane’s shriek is the only warning I have before I see the deadly spear driving toward my chest.

Nothing can protect me now—not my elven make, not my noble blood, and surely not Malachi’s fire in my veins.

A shrill scream rattles my eardrums a split second before a brilliant white light blinds me from witnessing my impending doom.

Intense heat scorches my skin.